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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246507">the old things</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves'>helwolves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Holding On, M/M, Nonspecific Apocalypse, Robot Arm Kuroo, SASO 2017</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:54:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25246507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>He’s grateful that not everyone he cares for goes out at once. That Akaashi’s here, silently working on his own repairs, sharing fears without either of them quite putting any of it into words. That Yaku’s here, doing pull-ups to the tinny sound of someone’s solar-powered radio, the show-off.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>It’s not that Tetsurou doesn’t trust Bokuto. If he could pick anyone to be out there with Kenma—well, other than himself. He can’t think about that right now, though. Shouldn’t think about that at all.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><br/>My last straggler SASO 2017 fill for the prompt "Kuroo in the post-apocalyptic safe house with Kenma's handwritten video game playthrough notes."
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Bokuto Koutarou &amp; Kozume Kenma &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Yaku Morisuke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sports Anime Shipping Olympics 2017</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the old things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/gifts">Marks</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every time Kenma leaves, it takes everything inside Tetsurou to keep from stopping him.</p><p>It gets a little harder every time, too. He can feel himself fracturing, deep down; the urge to wrap himself around Kenma and throw a blanket over their heads and never come back out floods in and pushes everything else away.</p><p>He can’t do that, of course. Kenma has an important job to do. He’s always been scarily observant and good at strategizing on the fly, and being a crack shot sealed the deal. He can’t stay in the safe zone just because even the thought of him not coming back makes Tetsurou want to bite through his own fist.</p><p>And Tetsurou would be out there, too, if he could be. If he hadn’t gotten hurt so early on. Another thing that erodes the carefully built structures in his mind that keep him going like this. Sitting here, repairing equipment, sharpening knives, counting cans. Waiting.</p><p>He’s grateful that not everyone he cares for goes out at once. That Akaashi’s here, silently working on his own repairs, sharing fears without either of them quite putting any of it into words. That Yaku’s here, doing pull-ups to the tinny sound of someone’s solar-powered radio, the show-off.</p><p>It’s not that Tetsurou doesn’t trust Bokuto. If he could pick anyone to be out there with Kenma—well, other than himself. He can’t think about that right now, though. Shouldn’t think about that at all.</p><p>“What is it?” Akaashi asks, when Tetsurou sighs too loudly.</p><p>Tetsurou rubs at his shoulder. It’s always sore there, just above where the muscle ends and the metal begins, but it’s worse on days like this when the air pressure’s bad and fucking with everything from the sky to the thoughts in their heads.</p><p>“Nothing. Just thinking,” Tetsurou says. He wants to shove his logbooks to the ground, but that would be childish. That would give him away.</p><p>“What did I tell you about that?” Yaku says, dropping into an empty chair across the table. “Don’t need you hurting yourself any more than you already did.”</p><p>Akaashi snorts into his hand. Tetsurou tries for a few seconds to glare, but he can’t maintain it, slipping into a grin that Yaku reflects, if a bit more red-faced and sweaty.</p><p>“They’ll be back soon, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says.</p><p>“Why do you still do that?”</p><p>Tetsurou doesn’t want to admit it hurts, the way Akaashi still tries to maintain that certain distance with him, but he can’t keep it out of his voice entirely.</p><p>“It’s nice to hold on to some of the old things, isn’t it?”</p><p>“He knows that,” Yaku cuts in. “Just look at this hair,” he says, reaching across the table to rub his gross hand all over Tetsurou’s head.</p><p>“Oi,” Tetsurou yelps, cackling and struggling. He tries to smooth down his hair after shoving Yaku off, but it’s no good. “You’re a fuckin’ comedian today, aren’t you, Yakkun? Why don’t you go—”</p><p>They all jump when the heavy metal door slams inward.</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto’s voice booms, over the sudden noise from the outer bunker—others shouting greetings, equipment being dropped, and gear unbuckled and unzipped.</p><p>Tetsurou floods with instant relief. Bokuto would never greet them like that if anything had gone horribly wrong. The huge grin on his face as he stomps across the room and throws himself at Akaashi is more evidence to that end.</p><p>Tetsurou’s almost to the door when Kenma steps into the light.</p><p>“Kuro,” he says, looking up through his dark hair—the bits that have fallen in his face and aren’t tied back anymore.</p><p>Part of Tetsurou wants to scold him for letting his vision be impaired at all when he’s out beyond the walls, but instead he just wraps himself around as much of Kenma as he can and squeezes hard.</p><p>“Oww,” Kenma grunts, squirming in Tetsurou’s grip. He doesn’t shove him off, though, wrapping his arms around Tetsurou’s waist and hugging back. “You almost made me drop my hot chocolate,” he says finally, with a pout in his voice that’s muffled against Tetsurou’s sweater.</p><p>“You’re back,” is all Tetsurou can say.</p><p>“You’re observant,” Kenma says, looking up at him with that tiniest of grins that makes his heart flip in his chest. “We brought presents.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>Kenma disentangles himself and shrugs out of the backpack he’d been shouldering. “We—we made it as far as the old neighborhood. Found some of our stuff.”</p><p>Across the room, Bokuto is shoving a volleyball at Akaashi, who smiles so brightly it’s kind of scary. Kenma pushes the bag into Tetsurou’s hands.</p><p>Inside, it just seems like junk, piles of papers and little things, until Tetsurou upends the entire bag onto the table. There’s some schoolwork. A couple issues of <em>Shonen Jump</em>. An old 3DS. Kenma’s gaming strategy notebook. Tetsurou’s volleyball strategy notebook. Someone’s kneepads. A little stack of photo booth strips that Tetsurou had, through sheer force of will, gotten Kenma to take with him one amazing afternoon.</p><p>Yaku only teases <em>a little</em> after he finds out why Tetsurou started crying in the middle of the bunker even though everyone had come home safe.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a little thing, but AO3 is an archive.</p><p><a href="https://twitter.com/helwolves">my twitter</a> ☆ <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/works?fandom_id=758208">my other HQ fics</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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